“Hello, my name is Jay, and I am a slow runner… I mean a REALLY slow runner.”
Not the charming, under-the-radar kind of slow either — the kind of slow where there’s no confusion about how long you’ll be out there.
You have to go all the way back to December 2019 to find the last time I broke three hours in a half marathon. That was five years ago! Clearly, I don’t do speed training and never really have — but come on, man… it’s not like I’m not trying. It’s very easy to blame the knee brace, so let’s go with that.
I went back as far as 2011 and saw that I was running 11‑minute miles. Why am I bringing this all up? Because this year, during the Weston Run for Tomorrow Half Marathon, I was determined to break three hours. Last year I came close, finishing at 3 hours and 4 minutes. And the only reason I didn’t break three hours was because I stopped to take way too many photos along the way. Obviously.
This is the perfect race to finish with a great time because it’s totally flat and it’s an out‑and‑back. More often than not, I’m not really focused on my finishing time, but this year I was.
Let me clarify a few things (or possibly make excuses) before I continue. I am not built for speed and never have been. I am built for distance and endurance. I’ve always had good cardio and have used that to my advantage. I’m not depressed about this — maybe just a little frustrated that I can’t do better — but I was determined to put forth a concerted effort this year to come in under three hours.
Typically, I like to do a 10‑mile run a week or two before a half marathon. That didn’t happen for this race. Back‑to‑back Gator games prevented me from doing a long run on the weekends. That was okay, since I consider myself always half‑marathon trained.
Then came the week of Thanksgiving. I got a call I wasn’t expecting from my dermatologist. A biopsy they had done on my face showed some squamous cells, and they needed to do Mohs surgery. This is a precise outpatient procedure used to remove skin cancers like basal cell and squamous cell carcinoma. The surgeon removes thin layers of skin, examines them under a microscope, and repeats the process until all the cancer cells are gone — preserving as much healthy tissue as possible. It has high cure rates and better cosmetic outcomes, especially on the face, hands, and feet.
I scheduled the procedure for the Tuesday before Thanksgiving, which meant I would miss the Tamarac Turkey Trot 5K for the first time since 1996 (not counting the pandemic years). The strategy was simple: stitches out the following Tuesday, good to go for Weston. This meant even more training I would be losing. I was going into this half marathon having run only once in close to two weeks.
As I’ve mentioned in prior blogs, there are several events taking place at this race — not just the half marathon. There’s also a 10K and, of course, my favorite: the kids’ fun one‑mile walk, which always seems to interfere with the finish of the race. As best as I can tell, 349 participants entered this year, which was up 56 from last year.
The good news? I didn’t finish last. I continue to hang my hat on the fact that I have never finished last in any race I’ve done — although I’ve come close a few times.
I started out with a pretty good pace, reflected by my heart rate hovering around 150 bpm for most of the race. That’s much higher than usual, but I was determined to keep it up to accomplish my goal. One fun fact: they added a couple of extra porta potties around the two‑mile mark this year. Porta‑potty placement has always been curious at this race. There’s one at the turnaround point, which makes no sense because you can only use it once. Putting another one at mile two gives you one last shot later in the race. Thankfully, I don’t have to stop that many times anymore, so it wasn’t an issue. There may have been some logistical reasons with the city for the placement — who knows.
As hard as I was running, it became obvious with a few miles to go that I wasn’t going to break three hours. That was pretty disheartening, but it also gave me a legitimate excuse to do some walking toward the end.
There weren’t too many kids cluttering up the finish line this year, but as always, there was no one there to hand me my finisher’s medal. I walked over to where they were doing the award ceremony, only to be told I had to wait until it was over to receive my medal. Gee, that’s fair. Apparently, I was being penalized for being slow — which is really the only thing I’ve never been able to accept in all the years I’ve been a runner.
As it turns out, I wasn’t the only one without a medal. After the ceremony, a representative from the organization announced they had run out of medals and would take our names and phone numbers to call us when more arrived. Let’s just say the mood shifted quickly. We asked to speak to the race director. When he came over, I politely told him this happens every single year. I also mentioned that if you’re telling people they need to finish within three hours, there needs to be someone at the finish line handing out medals the entire time.
Now, clearly, I didn’t finish under three hours — but that’s not the point. Some people who did finish under three hours didn’t receive medals either. He went back to the finish line and managed to find additional medals in a box lying around, so at least we all got to go home happy. I’m hoping this won’t be an issue next year, although I’ll probably email him beforehand just to make sure someone is there the entire time.
I felt decent afterward and wasn’t too sore the rest of the week.
And while this race didn’t go the way I wanted, it did remind me why I keep coming back. Not for the times. Not for the medals. But for the chance — every once in a while — to see what I still have left in the tank. Take it from me...there's a lot left!
We’ve all heard the quote: “It doesn’t matter how slowly you go as long as you do not stop.” That’s great — but it’s also nice to have a little extra incentive to shoot for.
And now, the big moment has finally arrived: Mount Dora… and half marathon #100.
